Freezing rain or shine, there is one day left in our Arctic Watch adventure to head deeper into the tundra, on rugged Bombardier all-terrain vehicles. I’ve ridden ATVs before, but never on a landscape so complementary to their capabilities: muddy, rocky, wet, no trees for thousands of kilometres. Warned never to underestimate the Arctic, I layered up to the point of absurdity (three pairs of socks, two layers of merino wool long underwear). Our destination, Inukshuk Lake, is a three-hour ride away, where we will pull out rods and attempt to catch some tasty Arctic char. Similar to salmon, Arctic char is lighter, whiter, and rarer to find on your plate.
Just minutes outside the Watch, I’m once again feeling the isolation, desolation, and striking beauty of the tundra. We cross rivers and estuaries, and ride on the spines of ridges, even as a light snow begins to fall. Tessum stops up ahead and points out two muskoxen in the valley below. They appear to be running toward us, disappearing on the slope before popping up 30 metres away. They’re not snorting or stamping their feet, but it’s unusual for these huge Arctic creatures to get so close. They trot along onto the path in front of us, and for the next 10 minutes, they clear our way, like squad cars leading a motorcade. Finally, they vanish into a valley below, leaving us elated from the encounter.
After roller-coastering up and down muddy banks and rocky hills, we arrive at the lake. Low cloud hovers on the hills, draining all colour from the landscape. Then the sun breaks through for a moment, pouring turquoise dye into the water. Sven (Arctic Watch’s shaggy-haired handyman) and Tessum prepare the rods, and after soup, sandwiches, and coffee, we’re casting our lines from the shore. Landlocked char grow slowly, and a strict quota is in place. Our goal is to catch four medium-sized fish for the kitchen and catch-and-release the rest. It’s Sven who reels in the first couple of char. As for me, let’s just say if you teach this man to fish, he’s still not going to catch anything.
On the long ride back (when did you last spend six hours on an ATV?), with my right thumb on the throttle, I find myself zoning out. Life seems very simple: get back to the warmth of the Watch, eat, survive. This is the way of the Arctic north.
Considering its size, I explored but a fraction’s fraction of Nunavut. I did not get the opportunity to spend time with its Inuit people or visit their towns and settlements. Yet as small as my Arctic dosage was, it was in the company of people who love it, explore it, and are devoted to introducing us southerners to its wonders. Nunavut before you die? You’d be a macadamia not to.
START HERE: canadianbucketlist.com/arcticwatch